Horatio, Wolfeboy, and the Lab of Coolness
by WarricksGirl
Summary: The beginning of a saga, Wolfeboy a.k.a. Ryan Wolfe is accepted into the CSI: Miami clan, and is given a tour of the lab. Will he last?


Title: Horatio, Wolfeboy, & the Lab of Coolness

Summary: The beginning of a saga, Wolfeboy (a.k.a. Ryan Wolfe) is accepted into the CSI: Miami clan, and is given a tour of the lab.

Warning: You may see some wildly-out-of-character CSIs. Mentions of hummers. And utter stupidity, of course.

**8:00a.m., Miami-Dade Crime Lab, Second floor.**

Things are business as usual as Horatio Caine overlooks the near-vacant parking lot and red-orange sky. A case overload has seemed to hit them in a blink of an eye, and this is one of the very few times he's gotten a chance to actually relax, take a real look around him before going on the clock.

In a gray sweater vest over a white shirt and matching _Dickies_, Ryan Wolfe approaches, a solemn look on his face.

"Lieutenant Caine," he begins, "I would like to join your team."

Caine draws his torso back in a hand-on-hip motion, appearing if he's studying a specimen and taking a new theory into consideration. "Well…you know no one can replace the late Tim Speedle…"

"Yessir," Ryan retaliates rapidly, "I would never want to be a replacement."

"Good…that's good. Now I _guess_ I could let you join our team…that is, until you annoy the hell out of Calleigh and Eric to the point that they kill you…"

Ryan does a double-take, wondering if he's heard quickly. "Wh-what? Whatdya mean…_kill…_"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. How about I show you around?" says Horatio warmly.

The rookie gives a skeptic look, yet nods. "Uh…sure."

He watches the lieutenant stroll to a nearby window, giving a classic _convention girl_ gesture. "Here, we have the window of coolness." Ryan frowns, yet of confusion, not fear of insanity for his new boss.

"…Of…_coolness_? Well…it's got a cool view…"

"Everything is cool here, Ryan," Caine says deeply. "This is the Lab of Coolness." Ryan does nothing but nod quietly. Horatio then walks into the ballistics lab, the newbie close behind. "This is the ballistics lab of coolness. Here we study cool bullets fired from cool guns." He then points to a microscope. "That is the microscope–"

"Of coolness?" finishes Wolfe, pretty sure that he's caught on.

Horatio shakes his head. "No. That's just the microscope."

"But…I thought you said–"

"Ryan. Don't question me. It's not cool."

"Well…alright then…" Just then, a white-clad Calleigh Duquesne strides in, not seeming the least-bit surprised upon seeing a new face. "Ryan…you as a rookie must now be grateful. Because you have now entered the cool realm of my cool friend Calleigh. She works in this cool ballistics lab with very cool firearms."

Oddly enough, Ryan is pleased. "Cool!" he shouts with a sincere smile.

"Uh…H, what are you doing? And who's your friend?" she asks the lieutenant.

"Listen to 'er purr," Horatio says, "Can't you detect the cool rhythm of her cool southern accent?"

Ryan nods, giving a toothy grin and suddenly seeming eager. "I'm Ryan Wolfe. The cool Horatio was showing me the cool lab of coolness!"

Calleigh sighs, rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "Horatio…I've told you time and time again – there's no such thing as the Lab of Coolness."

It's Horatio's turn to give a shake of the head, "Don't mind the cool Calleigh. She's having some very uncool delusions…"

"Horatio." Calleigh means business now. "This is the last time. One more outburst and I'll be forced to take your Hummer away--"

The lieutenant suddenly hops into a fighting stance, ready to protect his H2 if need be. "Like hell, you uncool bitch! You will never, you hear me, _never_ come between me and my baby Selina Yalis!" Calleigh seems irritated with arguing and simply gives up, leaving them without a word.

Ryan seems confused, "_Selina Yalis_?"

"Cool name, huh? It's my baby H2's name," explains Horatio.

"Um…it sounds like you took Yelina Salis's name and switched the initials…"

Horatio scowls, seeming utterly displeased. "Damn…" he murmurs to himself, "he's not as stupid as I thought he was…"

"W-what…?" Wolfe cries, attempting to mask his offence.

Caine clears his throat, regains his posture. "Look. If my cool Hummer baby's name sounds like a certain cool attractive detective, that's beyond cool control."

"Oh-kay…but I have a question. Is that oka-…er…I mean is that cool?"

"Sure, kid, shoot. Questions are always cool. You find out cool new stuff." Ryan nods slightly, pointing to Horatio's head.

"What's that?" the rookie questions.

"This? This, my friend, is my cool hair of coolness – strand 15,462 to be exact. Why is strand 15,462 so important, you ask? Well I always keep it a 47-degree angle to insure full and ultimate coolness--"

"Yeah…um this is fascinating and all," Ryan interrupts, "but I'm talking about those shades."

"Well…_first_ of all, don't ever cut me off. It's not cool."

Wolfe nods. "Sorry."

"It's okay. You're a rookie, you're no considered cool yet anyways. Second of all, these aren't _just_ shades. They're the ultimate king of coolness. The Mighty H2."

"Isn't that the name of your hummer?"

"Okay… H3."

"That's a hummer too, now."

Annoyed, Horatio glares at the rookie, clearly loosing patience. "Look. It's not cool to argue with the Lieutenant. You don't want to be considered uncool, now do you?"

"But just a minute ago you said I wasn't cool to begin with," reminds the rookie.

"Well…I may give you coolness to take it away. Or I may let you dig yourself into a ditch of negative uncoolness. And that'd make you a negative one."

"But if it's negative uncoolness, that'd make it positive coolness–"

"You're at negative two, now, my uncool friend."

Ryan frowns. "Sorry."

"It's alright. And you're at negative one again. Because apologies are cool. Sometimes."

"Well…thanks, I guess…"

Horatio gives a nod. "You're very welcome. Now back to my lesson. These silhouette shades are the masters of coolness, the kings, the empresses."

"Um," Ryan pipes up once more, "How are they kings if they are empresses. That would make them male and female at the same time."

Caine simply shakes his head, crossing his arms in front of himself. "You're at negative two again…"

"My bad," says Wolfe who flinches, realizing his mistake.

"No apology necessary, just say it."

Ryan is utterly puzzled now, and is pretty sure he'll stay that way. "Say…what?"

"'All hail the shades of coolness'. It's the only way for a rookie to greet shades of such stature."

"Wha…? I mean I don't get it.."

"Wolfe. Stop babbling and just say it."

"But horatio, I don't…get why I need to do this…"

"SAY IT!" shouts the lieutenant, suddenly infuriated.

"But I–"

"Negative three," counts Horatio.

"But I **you **cut **me** off. Isn't that uncool?"

Caine is disgusted, shaking his head. "Negative four. And nothing I do or say is _ever_ uncool."

Ryan isn't going down that easy, though. "But Horatio–"

"Negative six."

"Whatever happened to negative five?" argues the rookie.

"Negative seven." Wolfe sighs. Maybe he _will_ go down that easy…

"Fine, then. All hail the shades of coolness."

The supervisor shakes his head once again. "No, no, no, no, no. you have to say it like you MEAN it! You don't want this job to be painful, do you?"

"_Painful?"_ shouts rookie Ryan Wolfe's inner voice. _"What the hell do you _mean_ painful? Is this some kind of CSI rookie hazing? And what about that Calleigh and Eric killing the annoying little newbie? Are they seriously going to get rid of me so quickly? I can't back down now…I may be in for it even if I _do_ quit now!"_ Shaking his head furiously, he shouts, "All hail the shades of coolness!"

"Louder!" shrieks Caine, causing passers by to stare strangely…well those that haven't stopped to do so already, anyways. "THE SHADES CAN'T HEAR YOOOOUH!"

"ALL HAIL THE SHADES OF COOLNESS!" screeches the newbie, as if he were begging his life be saved from the wrath of death.

Caine rises up to his normal position, nods and straightens his jacket. "Good. You, my friend, have just earned yourself a zero. Now run along before you give me lice. I can't afford strand 15,462 to fall out."

Ryan frowns once again, and you would think he'd have a worry-line etched permanently in his forehead. "What?"

"Go away, Ryan," says Caine as he pulls down his trademark shades and places his hands on his hips. "Go far away."

* * *

END


End file.
